


5 Times Ares Wished for a War, and 1 Time He Didn't

by LittleLalaith



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLalaith/pseuds/LittleLalaith
Summary: There was nothing in this world or the next that Ares loved more than War... until he allowed Dionysus to enter into his life.As their relationship develops, Ares learns the many colours of love and war. He just wasn't expecting the concepts to overlap so often...
Relationships: Ares/Dionysus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this little piece of nonsense. 
> 
> I have been a little liberal with Greek Mythology and the timelines, but I did it for the Bois!

Despite Ares' personal feelings on the matter, the humans could not be constantly at war.

The God of War grew restless when left to his own devices, his thoughts turning to dark truths and ugly realisations when he had no violent distractions to keep him occupied. He remembered Aphrodite and the injustice of their broken engagement. He remembered the treatment of his daughter at the hands of Halirrhothios... the aftermath that followed. He remembered the loss of his son, Kyknos, at the hands of Hercules and the battle that followed.

None of the memories were happy ones, yet they clung to him stronger than the smell of blood and iron clung to conquered battlefields.

"Ares, man, we simply can't have you brooding alone in the corner like this. I mean, really. This is a party! Grab a drink, make yourself comfortable. There's time for war some other day," Dionysus voice broke through the spiral of memories and trauma, drawing Ares back to the world with a blinking disorientation.

Dionysus, God of Wine and Madness... Ares grimaced slightly and turned to face him, dreading the interaction before it had even begun. What could Dionysus possibly know of the darkness in the world? It was all well and good for him to go swanning around, enjoying the frivolous joys of life when sadness and sorrow had yet to reach him. But they would... In time. Ares couldn't bring himself to be the one who would burst his bubble, so he would let the cheerful young god have his revels for now.

"I thank you for your kind invitation, Lord Dionysus, but I'm afraid it'll take more than wine to clear my mind," Ares responded as politely as he could, despite his stormy mood.

The Warrior God only grew aware of his own clenched fists when the purple-haired deity glanced down and gave him a knowing look. Slowly, as though approaching some wild beast, Dionysus reached for his hand and held it gently between his own until Ares settled into a less rigid state of being.

"Then how about we add a little nectar to the mix and see if we can't get that scowl to shift?" Dionysus winked, and Ares felt a little of his stubbornness dissolve.

Perhaps Dionysus was right. This was no time for lament and woe, and he had been in desperate need of distraction. He allowed himself to be led from the window towards the table and watched as Dionysus poured him a drink with practiced, fluid movements. He offered it out, then drew it back as Ares reached for it, sending a flash of irritation and rage through the Warrior God. But Dionysus held up a single finger to still his temper.

"Ah, no. See, you're never going to be able to relax if you're covered in all that armour. It simply won't do, man. Here, let me get you into something more comfortable," the God of Wine winked, placing the chalice down so that he could reach for Ares' chest plate.

Ares swatted his hand away firmly, "I may be called to war at any moment. I need to be prepared."

"Hoping won't make it so, Ares. The humans are exhausted and their numbers are few, they won't be starting any more wars for a few seasons yet. And you know as well as I do that it takes precious few minutes to put the damn stuff back on if you need to. Just let me help you and I promise, I promise, that you'll feel much better."

As much as Ares hated to admit it, he had a point. The last war had devastated both sides and they were in no fit shape to ride back into battle any time soon. But shedding his armour felt too symbolic - as though he were retiring from war completely. Ridiculous as it sounded, it felt wrong to cast aside his mantle like this.

But, Dionysus was persuasive and he spoke sense... in that insidious way that madmen often did. When his fingers started to peel away the protective layers of Ares' armour, he did not stop him. Instead, he allowed himself to be serviced and aided out of his armour until naught remained but his tunic. He felt vulnerable. Exposed.

"Much better, I mean you have to admit, that feels much more in keeping with the whole 'party' vibe. Now here," Dionysus rambled, offering up the chalice at last.

Ares accepted it drinking deeply to burn off the worry in his soul and to fortify him against the sense of weakness left without his armour. When had he grown so soft as to rely on his clothing to fight battles? Perhaps after the battle with Hercules... and again, the dark thoughts flew back to him. He drained off his glass and presented it to the God of Wine himself for another.

"Hey, now we're talking, man! Alright, alright, come with me. I've got just the thing," Dionysus cheered, grasping hold of Ares' wrist and leading him towards a corner littered with an impossible number of cushions and pelts.

Pushing Ares firmly (but without malice) into the ocean of soft textures, Dionysus plopped himself down beside him and conjured up a fresh bottle of wine to pour into each of their glasses. Ares huffed slightly with irritation, hating to be physically bested in any capacity, and upset further by the overwhelming softness of the space around him. He loathed the implication that he required such softness in order to be placated, that he was not strong enough to endure normal seating at a party. He was displeased with Dionysus' thoughtless insults and-

And there was a hand on his cheek. Ares stopped and looked at Dionysus, with his dark eyes and fretless smile. And he felt the anger beginning to melt away by slow degrees.

"You know, we really need to do something about that sour look, Ares. I bring you over to my lovely little love nest and pour you wine, and you still look as though you'd rather place your head under a chariot wheel. What's on your mind?" 

Reaching for the refreshed chalice of wine, Ares took a more restrained sip and settled himself into the mass of pelts. At the heart of it, he knew that Dionysus had meant him no insult, and it was unjust of him to lash out. But he suspected the actions he'd taken were feeding into some greater worry that was grinding beneath Ares' skin. 

"I wish there were another war," Ares confessed reasonably enough, blissful thoughts of bloodshed and carnage flickering across his memory. "I know who I am during war. I serve a purpose and I serve it well. When the land is at peace, I am left with nothing."

"Well, Ares, I don't know what to tell you, man. I mean, there's more to you than the poetry you bring to a battlefield. And don't get me wrong. I've seen how you move out there, watched you closely if I'm being perfectly honest, and you do it damned well. But you're more than just another blade in the frenzy of a war. You just need to figure out what that is."

"But I'm the God of War, Lord Dionysus. That is my speciality."

"And I'm the God of Wine... and Madness, and Grapes, and Theatre. You don't have to stick to one thing, just find something that hasn't been claimed yet and go with that," Dionysus shrugged, and Ares hated that he had a point. 

He didn't much like the idea of claiming patronage over something like regrowth or cleansing, but he also didn't want to step on Hades' toes by venturing into the death and decay avenues. Maybe he could focus on 'dangerous' things instead and branch out that way. 

"Like... snakes?" Ares asked, trying to think of something that interested him. 

"Ah, sorry. They're also one of mine. And panthers," Dionysus winked. "I think vultures are free though. Oh! And boars, those are good war animals. Pop some armour on them, steel tip the tusks and ta-daa, war pig."

A sharp bark of laughter broke through the air, and it took Ares a moment to realise that it had come from him. He blinked and let the laughter take hold, rising from him in waves, echoed in kind by Dionysus' pleased laughter. It wasn't long before they were both lost to a fit of giggles, wine and nectar starting to take hold. Before long, the chalices were placed aside for fear of spills and Dionysus set them into a fresh peal of laughter by describing a battle-clad vulture. 

When Ares finally felt the laughter ease and he was able to catch his breath, he realised that he and Dionysus had shifted closer until they were laid out side by side. Dionysus' hair was splayed out prettily around his face, his cheeks bright with mirth. For a long moment, they were caught in something, staring into each other's eyes. Ares felt a calmness that he hadn't known for many years, content to exist in this space with a valued companion but also yearning for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Like violence, but softer... Passion. Lust... He had almost forgotten those softer shades of energy, the power in those smoother emotions.

At long last, Ares cleared his throat and tried to move away, but Dionysus' hands were on him, pulling him back. Their lips met in a messy, clumsy union. Ares pressed in harder, claiming Dionysus' lips, trying to draw his tongue into a battle for dominance. But Dionysus was pliant under his force, accepting everything Ares gave him and responding with heady, pleasurable sounds. It was intoxicating. Ares wanted more, wanted to feel Dionysus grow desperate under his ministrations, to cling to him, to cry out. He wanted to watch the God of Madness shift from languid bliss to heated mania, back to sated and contented stillness.

All too soon it was over. Dionysus drew away, panting softly against Ares' lips.  
And Ares knew that he would fight a thousand wars to keep this man safe.


	2. Chapter 2

If ever there had been a God of Sexual Teasing, Ares would have assumed that Aphrodite would take up the claim... but he was slowly beginning to realise that Dionysus was a solid candidate for the title too. 

The Olympians had gathered together for one of their many festive occasions (something about crop cleansing, though Ares hadn't paid too much notice when Apollo had been explaining it), and the wine was pouring as freely as ever. By some small miracle, Ares' mood had lifted considerably since their last party, giving him a little more scope to enjoy the atmosphere and engage himself in conversation with Artemis. However, his attention kept getting drawn towards the feasting table. 

Since Ares had arrived, Dionysus had been lounging in his little 'love nest' of cushions and pelts, talking and laughing with Aphrodite. He looked particularly beautiful tonight - his rich purple hair had been loosely braided so that it lay in thick woven curls against his shoulder, and he had opted for an especially free-flowing tunic that threatened to reveal all if he moved too fast or too carelessly. Ares found himself hoping that just such a thing might happen and that he might be able to get a little taste of what the frivolous deity had to offer.

"See something you like?" Artemis teased, following his gaze. "I thought you and Aphrodite were old news?"

"Hm? Oh... we are," Ares answered, realising too late that it had been the wrong thing to say. Until now, he had kept his attractions firmly to himself, but it wouldn't take much to work out who he was looking at if not Aphrodite. "I just... thought I heard my name, but I must have been mistaken."

"Wouldn't be surprised if you did," Artemis smirked, finishing her drink. "He's barely stopped talking about you since the last gathering."

"I... he what?" Ares frowned, searching Artemis' gaze to ensure she wasn't trying to make a fool of him. But she nodded and gave him a meaningful look.

"Anyway, I need to go and find Apollo, he lost a bet," Artemis explained, excusing herself and intentionally leaving Ares to either act on the new information he'd received or do something to hide his own desires. 

Ares was left with a conundrum. He couldn't just walk over there and intrude, not when Dionysus was engaged in conversation with his ex-lover and fiance. Despite their relationship being something of a distant memory now, Aphrodite was well known for her jealousy; if Ares started to give his attention to Dionysus while she was present, she would no doubt take it as a personal attack. But if the other god had an eye for him too, then there was no reason not to act... 

As Ares was trying to work out what he should do, Dionysus cast a casual glance his way and smiled before returning to his conversation. Ares would count such a smile amongst his most prized treasures, if he could. So open and sincere, so inviting. But there was more to it somehow. Before he turned his gaze away, Ares noted the way that Dionysus adjusted his posture, the toned expanse of his thigh suddenly all too visible from Ares' viewpoint. 

The God of War flustered slightly and turned his attention to the task of getting himself another drink, not wanting to be caught in the act of staring. But he made sure to position himself within easy view of the Fertility God and his obvious efforts to tease. Well, if Dionysus wanted to bait him into a state of desire, then Ares would just have to match his efforts in kind. He liked the idea of it, the battle that they would wage. A softer kind of war, where both sides would ultimately win but one would be able to claim victory overall. 

He wished for a real war, so that he could ride out into the battlefield and show Dionysus the full extent of his power. He wanted to show off for the other god, to earn his praise and claim his affections as the bounty of his victory. But, the humans were still weak and their attention was on the harvest that Dionysus loved so well. So, in the meantime, Ares would have to content himself with battling the other Olympians for Dionysus' attention. 

"Well, now. This festival is turning into a dull affair, all this talking and milling around. Come, who would duel with me?" Ares called out, placing his chalice aside and stepping into the quickly emptying space at the center of the hall. 

Duels were not unheard of at their parties, taken as friendly competition rather than signs of malice. Biased though he was, Ares found them far more engaging that the usual chitchat that permeated the space. He cast his gaze to Poseidon, who had readily faced him in the past, but the Ocean God simply laughed and shook his head. Scanning the room, Ares was met with avoidant gazes throughout the hall, leaving him frustrated and disappointed - that was, until his gaze met with that of Athena. Smirking slightly, she stepped forward and summoned her armour and spear, readying herself for a fight. 

Ares grinned and readied his own weapon, taking a moment to circle the cleared space as they sized one another up. Already he could feel the joy of savagery rising in his veins; the rush of adrenaline, the thrum of his celestial heartbeat in his ears. His focus closed in on Athena, all else blocked out as he surged forward on the offensive. Athena may have been the Goddess of Warfare, blessed with tactical knowledge and wisdom, but Ares was War itself in all of its violence; his attack was relentless, powerful and near-feral. As they battled, Ares allowed his movements to grow more poetic, more performative. Each swing of his blade was designed to highlight the curves of his muscular shoulders, each dancing change of footwork showing off his prowess and strength. He dared not take his eyes from Athena to see if the figure of his affection was impressed, but his hopes were confirmed when he heard Dionysus' cheer rising through the crowd. 

At long last, Athena's defensive tactics failed her and Ares was able to drive his blade into the space beneath her chin, stopping just shy of her throat. "Do you yield?"

"I yield," Athena sighed, panting softly. 

A cheer rose through the collected masses, but one in particular stuck in his mind. Ares smiled, his hair unruly from the exertion and his skin a little shiny with the effort of his violence, but his body remained firm and strong with the power of the fight; when he met Dionysus' gaze, he marked the way the other god gave him a long once-over and felt a new kind of fire burning in his chest. 

He was pleased to see that Aphrodite had moved away from the cushioned corner to get a better view of the fight, which allowed him free rein to walk confidently over to the God of Wine and to take the chalice from his hand in order to steal a deep drink. Draining the glass, he looked to Dionysus and raised a brow, a silent question lingering in the air between them. As though to answer, Dionysus unfolded himself from the pile of cushions and pelts to run a hand down Ares' chest. 

"An impressive display, Ares. I've got to hand it to you, man, you really know how to grab a guy's attention," Dionysus smirked, leaning his weight into Ares so that their lips were but a few thin inches apart. "Hope you haven't tired yourself out too much, my savage wildcat. I have plans for you, if you're willing."

Ares gave him no warning, but scooped the God of Wine into his arms and started towards the door. Dionysus laughed happily and clung to him, distracting Ares with teasing kisses and nibbles to his jaw and throat. The battle was won, and now it was time to claim his reward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains the canonical death of Ampelos. It is not shown in detail, but Dionysus is grieving his loss.

It had been more than a month since Ares had seen Dionysus and the distance bothered him. 

The God of Wine and Madness had been frolicking through the land of the humans for the season of festivals, granting them bountiful harvests and sampling the offerings that they had left in his honour. More than that, Ares knew that Dionysus had gone to see Ampelos.

Despite their casual hook ups and free expressions of affection, neither he nor Dionysus had ever brought up the subject of their relationship. They were not exclusive, and Ares knew that he held no ownership over the frivolous god. But it hurt him more than he cared to admit when he thought of the beautiful, dark-eyed deity sharing intimate touches with anyone else. He loved him, and he was not in the habit of sharing his hard-won prizes.

But Dionysus was a wild spirit, pleased by every experience and interaction he happened upon. To hold him back, to cage him within the restrictions of Ares' selfish love, would be to force him into a life of suffering. And Ares refused to do that to such a vibrant man, he refused to stain his bright countenance with any line of stress or worry if it could be helped. So, he would suffer the ache in his chest when he saw Dionysus loving freely, or when he wandered for long stretches of time. It would be worth it when Dionysus returned to him and he could share in that cornucopia of physical affections. 

The last thing that Ares expected was for the carefree deity to return to Olympus in tears. 

He had been reading in the library when he saw the hooded figure pass by the doorway, the rich purple hue giving Ares his only clue as to the person's identity. He stood, wondering whether the younger god had just failed to notice him in the library, but sensing that maybe it was something more. He followed, worry starting to kindly in his chest, broiling into a protective aggression that he swore to unleash if someone had hurt his lover.

"Dionysus?" Ares called once he reached his door, listening for any sign of him.

Inside, he could hear choked sobs and sharp inhalations - a sound he had caused a thousand times during the frenzy of war, but not one that he had much experience with on a closer scale. He hesitated, not sure whether he should stay and support his lover, or whether to respect his privacy. But before he could make a decision, there were footsteps on the other side of the door and a heavy creak as the door swung open a few inches.

Dionysus looked so different. The vivacious joy had left his features, replaced with grief and hopeless despair. His perfect smile had long vanished and had been replaced with an interloping grimace. Worst of all were the tears that streaked down his soft cheeks. There were no words that could work there way out of Ares' throat to comfort him, so he opened the door wider and stepped inside, drawing Dionysus in against his chest and holding him tightly as a fresh wave of tears strained his shoulder and chest. 

The minutes stretched on, torturous and uncertain. In the end, Ares scooped Dionysus into his arms and carried him over to the bed, drawing a blanket up around him and holding him close. 

"I'm sorry..." Dionysus croaked, but Ares stopped him with a gentle kiss. 

"You need not be sorry, little love. Take as long as you need, I'm right here," Ares reassured, resting his chin on Dionysus' head and cuddling him in close. "When you're ready, if you want to talk about your troubles, I'll listen. If not, I understand."

Dionysus nodded, clinging to Ares' tunic as he settled his breathing. He was shaking slightly, curled in on himself and cradled into the space against Ares' chest; he seemed so small, so lackluster... so unlike himself. Whatever happened, it had been big. 

After a long period of silence, Dionysus eventually spoke. "They killed him."

"Who?" Ares asked, unsure of whether he was asking who had done the killing, or who had been killed. 

"Ampelos. He's gone..."

Shit. 

"Dionysus, I'm so sorry. I can't begin to imagine..." Ares uttered quietly, a feeling that he couldn't quite place was building in his chest. Anger, pity, sadness. He couldn't be sure. "What happened?"

"Selene," Dionysus all but spat, a fresh bout of shivering taking over his frame until Ares snuggled him in closer. "Ampelos was just fooling around, making me laugh. And that bitch had him killed, right there in front of me. I... I had to hold him as he bled out, man. I..."

It was something Ares could imagine well; he had been there a thousand times, but never with the added emotional weight that Dionysus now faced. 

And suddenly, Ares understood the feeling in his chest. It was wrath. Vengeful wrath. He wanted to drag Selene out into the streets of Greece and lead the humans into a full-scale war against the celestial body. He wanted to watch as the humans enacted every war crime yet known to man against her, to see her suffer and beg at his feet. But it would not be his place to forgive her. She would find no mercy from him, only anger and violence as he avenged Ampelos in Dionysus' honour. He would-

"Ares?" Dionysus' voice was so small and shaken, sounding nothing like the god who had brought so much joy to Ares' life. 

He snapped out of his blood-soaked fantasy and focused on the God of Wine, cuddling him close and kissing away a tear that clung to his cheek.

"Sorry, my love. Got a little caught up in my thoughts," he sighed, stroking his lover's hair affectionately and feeling the other god's breath against his throat. "I can have her punished for this, if it would please you. I could have her killed for taking Ampelos away from you."

"No," Dionysus answered firmly. "Ares, I need you here with me. No war. No violence. Just... stay with me. Please. You're all I have left."

The sentiment drove itself deep into Ares' chest and he nodded. Sitting up a little, he adjusted Dionysus' weight in his lap and used the extra room to peel off the layers of his armour, showing Dionysus that he had no intention of leaving him, then he lay back and guided the God of Wine to his chest. They stayed that way as the hours crawled by, just sharing the same air and savouring the fact that they were alive, and that they were together. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Lord Dionysus had invited Ares on an expedition to the human realm, Ares had not expected their travels to end up somewhere so exotic.

Ares' time on earth had mainly been spent on blood-soaked battlefields, marching along sun baked and foot-worn plains. Never in his long existence had he ever taken the time to walk through the forests of the world, or sample the salted air of the ocean from the peaceful shores of a warless nation. It was so green, so vibrant. For a brief moment, Ares could understand why humans chose to fight for land such as this - though his own preferences were always for the battles themselves. 

The journey that Dionysus had chosen for them was a surprise in itself. The God of Wine and the Vineyard was often sighted in the countryside or in the fields, talking with farmers and the creatures that fed the earth with rich nutrients. Ares might have understood if Dionysus had taken him there, or if he had taken the God of War to the forests that had once been home to his beloved Ampelos. 

But instead, the God of Madness was showing his true colours and had decided to take them for a long hike through a jungle. 

Looking around him, Ares could see a thousand shades of green and brown, each leaf and vine seeming to pulse with vitality in the maze of natural wonders that surrounded them. The calls of exotic birds and wild animals rumbled through the air, filling the misty air with innumerable threats and warnings. Creatures full of fangs and claws, innumerable poisonous plants, cutting thorns, strangling vines, and the ever clinging heat that drew sweat on the skin without any promise of clean water nearby. 

It was intoxicating.

"Tell me, dearest love. Why here? Of all the places on this earth that you could have shown me, why bring us to such a hostile land?" Ares asked, slipping an arm around Dionysus' waist as they walked over the uneven ground.

Dionysus turned to Ares with a smirk, winking in that playful way that only he seemed to be capable of. In the high humidity, his hair had grown in volume, his dark skin glowing whenever light managed to find its way down through the canopy of leaves. Ares watched as a beam of light rippled over the jaguar pelt that covered Dionysus' shoulders, and he wondered whether that might have had some bearing on the situation. 

"Well, man, what can I tell you? After a few seasons of rustic hillsides and pleasant villages, it's only natural to seek out a little bit of adventure. I figured we'd stretch our legs a little, you know? See the world, taste the rare and exotic fruits of the rainforest," the other god smirked, leaning into Ares slightly to avoid an outreaching branch. 

"Just a nice peaceful walk through nature?" Ares queried, raising a brow at his lover. In his younger years, he may have believed such an explanation, but he had grown to know Dionysus better than most in the last few months and he had learned to recognise mischief in his lavender eyes. "And there was me, thinking that perhaps you had planned a little fun for us."

"Fun? Is the forest not entertaining enough for you, Lord Ares?" Dionysus asked cheekily, resorting to 'Lord Ares' as he often did when he was playing the fool. "Or were you hoping that, maybe, just maybe, I'd allowed a pair of jaguars to track our path for the last mile so that they would learn our scent?"

Jaguars...

Ares felt a shiver of anticipation ripple over his skin and he gave his lover a side-eye, trying to understand what he was implying. If the jaguars were learning their scent, then Dionysus planned to let them loose on a hunt. Why would he choose to make himself prey to a pair of wild cats in an unfamiliar land? And yet, as strange as it seemed, Ares felt something like excitement beginning to boil beneath his skin. 

If he could not burn his fury and his violent energy in battle alongside the humans, perhaps he could pit himself in a war against Nature herself. With two strong wild cats on his tail and the world around him filled with dangers, Ares would need to summon all of his focus and strength. No tactics, no strategy. Just run, and climb, and out-manoeuvre the spirit of the wild itself. 

A soft chuckle to his side pulled Ares from his thoughts and he caught Dionysus admiring him with a long look. 

"That's it, man. That's the Ares I was looking for! I love it when you get all intense like that, gives me a thrill," Dionysus encouraged, leaning in to nuzzle against Ares' shoulder affectionately. 

"So, how is this going to work?" Ares asked, eyes scanning through the undergrowth for any sign of their feline stalkers. "If you're running from the jaguars, then you could cheat by controlling them."

Dionysus gasped dramatically, "Cheat?! Oh, Ares, what kind of God do you take me for?"

"A pillow princess who takes more pleasure in a pile of cushions than a vigorous sprint through the jungle?" Ares countered, knowing better than to pander to Dionysus melodramatic act. 

"Well, you've got me there," the other god laughed, pausing just long enough to reward Ares' astute observation with a kiss. "Which is why I'll be going off ahead while you count to 100. Then, you get to chase me, while my little kittens chase you. Sound fun?"

It really shouldn't have sounded like fun. It should have sounded like the stupidest and most dangerous idea that Ares had ever heard. But it was impossible to ignore the thrum of excitement and the thrill of adrenaline that coursed through his body at the mere thought. The familiar embrace of danger and a feral lust for the hunt.

"Alright, you're on."

Dionysus grinned and squeezed Ares in an enthusiastic hug, his excitement obvious in the half-mad glint of his eye. "I just knew that you'd love that idea, man. I just knew it. Now, you stand here and wait while I scout ahead. No cheating, or my little kittens will know about it, do you hear me?"

Ares laughed softly at the pseudo-threat but nodded his agreement. Dionysus watched him for a moment long with a scrutinizing eye, as though searching out some unsportsmanlike intention or devious plan. But, finding none, he leaned up to grant Ares a sweet kiss before turning tail and running wantonly into the wilderness. Ares planted his feet and watched as Dionysus broke into a sprint, his bright hair bouncing like some exotic pelt amidst the rich greens of the surrounding rainforest. The God of War watched him for as long as he could, slowly counting out the seconds while simultaneously trying to track where the other god was going.

99... 98... 97...

The vibrant colours of the other god were slowly swallowed by the natural landscape, leaving only the occasional crack of a broken stick or a flurry of wings as he disturbed a bird to give any marker for his location. After a little while, even those sounds faded out, leaving Ares stood isolated and vulnerable in the jungle. All around him, he could hear the movement of small creatures... and not so small creatures. Unfamiliar growls and cries pricked at his senses, reminding him that he had more to fear within the dense foliage than the twin wild cats. He kept a careful ear on the world around him, listening specifically for any sign of the jaguars, trying to zone in on their specific sound amidst the ambient cacophony - he wouldn't put it past Dionysus to cheat by setting the beasts on him early.

66... 65... 64...

The wait was excruciating. Ares wanted to break into a run, to give chase, to hunt down to the other god and prove his prowess. He wanted to feel his blood pumping through his limbs, lungs billowing air as he pushed his body to its limits. He wanted the rush of danger and exhilaration. He wanted to throw himself bodily at the God of Wild Cats himself and pin him down, to sink his teeth into his sun-warmed shoulder, to overpower him, to claim him. He wanted to feel Dionysus submit beneath him, teeth bared in ecstasy as they allowed primal needs to take hold. Not long now. Just keep counting.

14... 13... 12...

Ares braced himself for the chase, crouching to a runners start and summoning his strength. As he counted down to 0, he pushed off and erupted into a blur of motion and power.

Setting his footfalls in the direction Dionysus had initially taken, Ares blocked out as many of the surrounding noises and distractions as he could, trying to focus on the unsettling pound of heavy paws that took up the chase somewhere behind him. It dawned on Ares that Dionysus could have been anywhere in the rainforest, lost completely to the wilds, but he suspected that the other god had planned for this. He wouldn't want their chase to turn into a boring day of wandering and fruitlessly trying to find each other. There would be clues along the way, little signs and symbols to keep him on the trail. Teasing, taunting.

Sure enough, as Ares ducked left beneath a large branch and made a beeline for the stream, one of the jaguars emerged from the bushes and braced itself in the path. Ares was struck with the lethal beauty of the beast - all compacted muscle and powerful mass. It's primal roar was enough to spurn Ares back along the right-hand path and presumably in the direction of Dionysus. It was a cute trick, and while lacking in subtlety, it made up for this failing with an abundance of intimidation.

Reassured that he was on the right track, the God of War renewed his efforts and powered on as fast as his feet would carry him. As he ran, he felt the danger of the world reaching out to him from all sides, but it soothed him just as thoroughly as bird song and sunsets soothed the peaceful. He knew who he was in the flurry of this fear, he trusted his body and moved with the ease of a serpent through the undergrowth. He was the wild. He was danger. He was War. 

Before his thoughts could stray much further, Ares caught a flash of purple in the trees to his left and he grinned, baring teeth in feral delight as he located his prey. Darting into the denser set of bushes and undergrowth, Ares picked up his pace and tried to catch up. The jaguars were closer now, their joint tattoo of footfalls splitting and veering off to block each side of him, surrounding him with the sound of their snarls. As Ares closed the distance on Dionysus, so too did the jaguars close on him. They all broke into a clearing with simultaneous cries and Ares saw them both plainly and up close for the first time - monstrously large felines with a patchwork of rings and spots rippling over their athletic forms, muscular and solid. They were beautiful. They were deadly. 

As one took a chance and pounced for him, Ares ducked and rolled, kicking off as he rose so that he didn't lose ground. Just a few more meters and he would have Dionysus. Just a little further. With a roar of his own, Ares surged forward and threw himself at the other god, causing them both to tumble to the ground. 

Dionysus yelped a surprised laugh and clung to him as they landed, his rich laughter filling the clearing and acting as a signal to the jaguars that they were to stop. Ares felt the rush of victory, pride beaming from his smile as they both lay in the grass, panting heavily. The jaguars walked over, their large tongues lolling out as they tried to catch their breath, and Ares could see the softer side of their nature coming to light. When Dionysus had explained that he was the God of Jaguars, Ares had thought it an odd connection. But they were creatures of liquid and colour, powerful and pretty. They suited the Mad God well. 

"I think..." Ares started, once his lungs had recovered some kind of control over his breathing. "That I win that round. Care to go again?"

"Hah! Sorry, Ares, man. I don't think I could manage another run like that any time in the next century," Dionysus laughed, settling his weight against Ares and nuzzling against his shoulder as the jaguars settled themselves on each side of them. "But ask me again at the turn of the millennium and I'll consider it."

Ares might hold him to that. 

Even if he had to suffer through a period of peace, there would still be the option to rage against the wild. A war against nature. He would be outnumbered, at a tactical disadvantage, with no hope of overcoming every single threat. But it would feed his need for wild violence without the need to ever pick up a blade. 

"Thank you, my dearest. You have given me a greater gift than I could ever have hoped to receive," Ares uttered quietly. 

"Don't mentioned it, man. Just promise me that you'll spend more time in my bed chambers than you do in the forest, yeah?" Dionysus winked, stealing his lips in a breathless kiss. 

"I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

If the Grecian people were fond of anything, it was festivities. The Panathenaea for Athena, the festival of Boedromia in honour of Apollo, the celebration Thesmophoria for Persephone and Demeter. There were a multitude of festivals dedicated to Dionysus alone: Lenaia, Anthesteria, and the less subtly named 'Dionysus' festival. And yet, for all the frivolities and celebrations, there was not a single festival in honour of the God of War. 

Ares knew that the humans had little reason to celebrate war, with its casualties and bloodshed, but it cut him deeper than he cared to admit that they would not think on him in more peaceful times. He had fought alongside them in countless battles, protected them when other nations came marching through the land. He had shielded them from death, whetted their blades with blood and bone... and yet, they laid him down with the last of their weapons whenever the war was done, not to look on him until they required his aid once more. He was less than a weapon to them... at least they had the respect to display their weapons in their homes and honour the object's legacy by sharing tales of the battle in which it fought. 

They told few tales of Ares, except for the ones that told of his temper or his wrath. They celebrated Hercules for his ability to best the violent god in combat, they spoke of his war against Poseidon as a cautionary tale. He was a villain to them, until they required his aid as a protector... Mistrusted, reluctantly called upon. 

"Ares? Hey man, I thought we'd cured you of that nasty habit," Dionysus greeted, coming over to sit beside Ares on the balcony, looking over the kingdom of tiny human lives. "Brooding is no good, my dearest, you'll get wrinkles on that handsome face of yours." 

Ares didn't answer for the longest time, only reaching a hand slowly for Dionysus' and linking their fingers with the solemn air of someone reaching for a lifeline; his gaze was distant, distracted. Sensing the cloud over Ares' mood and knowing better than to try and play off the severity of his emotions with teasing, Dionysus allowed him to sit in silence for a while longer. He knew that Ares would speak when he was ready, and no amount of fooling around would hasten his tongue to speak. There was a time for teasing, and there was a time for quiet support. After a long spell of silence, the God of War answered. 

"Why do they hate me?" 

Dionysus blinked with surprise and looked to his lover, confused by the question. "Who hates you, my dearest? Because I think I speak for all Olympians and Cthonic God's alike when I say that we love you as one of our own. And I speak for myself personally when I say that I love you still more than that."

A sad smile graced Ares lips and he leaned into Dionysus affectionately, showing his appreciation in the only way he could think how. But the somber air still clung to him and showed no signs of dissipating any time soon. In an effort to soothe him, the God of Wine encouraged Ares to lie across the bench so that his head would be in Dionysus' lap, soft hands toying in his white hair. 

"Thank you, my love. But I was talking about the humans," Ares examined, a sigh escaping from his lips and hanging between them like an omen. "It's easy to understand why they praise a God of Wine or Fertility so often, I understand that my specialty is not so appealing... But they worship Athena and Hercules without question... Why do they cast me aside?" 

Unsure how to answer, Dionysus considered the question carefully. All the while, his fingers played delicately with the cloud-like wave of Ares' hair, fingertips gradually working their way over his temples and the back of his neck. He wanted to tell Ares that the humans didn't hate him, that they worshipped him alongside the other gods with equal fervor, but he knew the truth as much as Ares did. They did not offer him sacrifices or gifts in times of peace. They did not chant his name in celebration or pray for him when their homes were safe. He was a god of circumstance to the fickle humans, only thought of when they had run out of options and were willing to put their faith in a supposedly dangerous deity. 

"I sometimes wonder whether my place truly is on Olympus, or whether I had been intended for the Cthonic realm. My only purpose is brutality and bloodshed, my children are Fear and Terror and Discord... If the humans cannot love me as a God, I wonder whether I would have been better placed as a harbinger of something sinister, that I might be respected rather than worshipped," Ares mused, his gaze distant and his voice pitched low.

Dionysus leaned down as best he could to plant a kiss on his lover's forehead, fingertips tracing the beautiful streak of shining white across his eyes before one hand settled against his chest, while the other supported Ares' head gently. He had no answer that would offer comfort, nothing that would satisfy Ares' mood. Only his company, and the physical comforts that his body could provide. But... maybe that was a place to start. 

"If you were born to the Cthonic realm, then you and I may not have met," Dionysus reasoned. He watched the thought play over Ares' features, flickering between appreciation, guilt, sadness, love. "I, for one, am glad that you're up here with the Olympians. Even if the humans are fickle and stupid. They know nothing of the God that they're rejecting... not your handsome features or your strong frame, your soothing voice and protective, caring soul. They are missing out on your primal joys and physical expressions of love. Truth be told, Ares, they're missing out on a lot."

A sad laugh drifted from Ares' throat, and Dionysus felt some of the weight lifting from his chest. It wasn't much but it was a start, if he could just get Ares talking, maybe he would be able to work his way out of the black chasm that had taken hold of his mood. If he could get the God of War and Brutality to just talk about his feelings instead of allowing them to consume him until he lashed out, it would help them to work through this a lot faster. It would be a long time until they got Ares talking openly about his feelings without prompting, but there had been a decided improvement in his willingness to let Dionysus in. After a while, Ares sighed again and turned his head to nuzzle affectionately at Dionysus' thigh. 

"I wish there was a war," he uttered quietly. "When there is a war, I know my place. Peace makes me nervous..." 

"Nervous of what, sweetness?" Dionysus asked, trying to give him the space to open up. 

"Nervous that the humans will forget me completely, that more of them will turn to Athena for aid and I'll fade into obscurity," Ares confessed, his cheeks darkening a little with humiliation. But Dionysus was quick to reassure him with a soft smile.

"They won't forget you, man. You're Ares, God of War!" the purple haired god replied, trying to encourage him. "You feature in far too many of their tales and you've played a part in so many of their heroes' lives. Besides, if it all comes down to it, there are worse things than being forgotten."

A flicker of anger found its way to Ares' eye and Dionysus knew that he had said the wrong thing. He winced slightly and tried to backtrack, but Ares was already sitting up and turning on him. 

"Worse things? That's all well and good for you to say, Lord Dionysus. With your three annual festivals and bountiful offerings. You, with your lordship over wild cats and serpents, wine and harvest, fertility and theatre. You don't give the humans even the slightest opportunity to forget you; you thrust yourself into their every thought by some association. What by all of the earth's greenness would you know about being forgotten?!"

So, they were back to 'Lord Dionysus'... that stung a little more than the God of Wine cared to admit. But he held his ground and met Ares' eye, trying not to let his fury infect him or bait him into a shouting match. He knew better than to try and fight with War incarnate, especially when his lover was so hurt. Instead, he waited for the tirade to be over, then took Ares' hand in his own, massaging gently as he offered a calm and level response. 

"If you'd let me finish, I was going to say that you would always be in the forefront of my thoughts, even if the humans forgot you. I was going to tell you how wonderful it would be to settle down and live a long eternity with you at my side, never fearing that you might be dragged away to war or sent into battle against some demi-spawn of Zeus'," Dionysus explained, feeling the tension leaving Ares' muscles, even as the shame and regret rushed in to take its place. "Besides, I could have a festival on every single day of the year and still choose to reject the offerings in favour of spending time with you."

"Dio..." Ares breathed, his eyes cast down. It took Dionysus a moment to realise that the strange quality to his lover's eyes were... tears. The God of War was weeping. Dionysus had never seen him like this, had never known him to succumb to such passions, but it was oddly touching. The God of Wine shifted closer and pulled Ares against him, holding him tightly and planting kisses wherever he could reach.

The old Ares would have stormed away and unleashed his fury on anybody that stood in his way. But this new Ares, softened by love and given more patience by Dionysus' careful encouragements, was reflecting on his actions and expressing himself plainly. Sure, there had been a lash out and a few pointed words, but his anger had been far more fleeting that usual and he had accepted Dionysus' response with a level head. He was making an effort to improve, and that was all the God of Wine could ask. In exchange, Dionysus was making an effort to take these moments more seriously and to allow Ares some emotional honesty instead of teasing or joking until the pain went away. They would improve together, supporting each other and being patient when either of them had a slip.

"I'm so sorry," Ares whispered, holding onto his lover tightly, as though he might choose to suddenly take offense to Ares' accusations and leave. But Dionysus squeezed him tightly in reassurance. "I shouldn't have shouted."

"It's alright, man, you're clearly going through a rough time with this. But I'm right here, yeah? I'm not going to let you be forgotten, even if that means setting up my own little shrine in the bedroom just for you. I'll get down on my knees every single morning for you if it'll make you feel better," the God of Wine winked, relieved when Ares' laugh broke through in a breathless bark. 

"Is that a promise?" Ares smiled, rubbing at his eyes to chase away the tears that had traitorously fallen. 

"Absolutely," Dionysus smirked.

Ares leaned in to kiss him lovingly, savouring the sweetness of his lips. When he felt more steady, the God of War broke away and pressed his forehead to his lover's, just taking a moment to breathe and work through the cocktail of emotions that were fighting for space in his mind. Dionysus stayed close, just pleased to see that Ares was more like himself and that his rage had passed. All things considered, Ares was getting a lot better as controlling his temper, and Dionysus knew that it had never really been directed at him personally. He wouldn't hold it against his lover, but instead he chose to focus on the quick apology that followed and the constant improvement that he saw in Ares' control as they continued along the path of their relationship together. 

After a long while, Ares took a deep breath and nodded slightly, "Thank you, my love. I feel less lost when I'm with you."

"You don't need a war to know who you are, man. You're Ares. You're my partner, my lover, my life. You are mine, just as I'm yours. War, or peace, can't change those facts or take you away from me. So how about we go back inside and I can show you just how much I mean that?" 

Ares smiled and leaned in for another kiss, the usual intensity of his emotions starting to rekindle in his eye. Only this time, the emotion was far more positive, and much more conducive to a good time. 

"Sure... maybe you could show me how that alter works."


	6. Chapter 6

Ares had been laying in bed with Dionysus when the calling came to him. 

War had broken out on the continent and the Grecians had called to him for aid. 

Sitting up slowly, disentangling his arms from his lover while trying not to wake him, Ares slowly worked his way out of bed and looked out at the human realms below. 

Why now? Why had they chosen to fight amongst themselves and call him away from his beloved, just as he was starting to feel contentment with his lot in life? He sighed and reached for his chest plate, knowing that he would not be able to ignore the call. His followers were few and his offerings were seldom; he couldn't afford to let his name shrink into obscurity by ignoring the few prayers he received. And yet... it was a strong temptation. 

Ares looked back at the figure of Dionysus, sprawled inelegantly across the bed with his thick hair billowing about his face in pretty waves. His passionate lover who had shown him that there was more to life than violence; his considerate and caring partner who had taken the time to understand Ares and all of his inner battles. Dionysus loved him, despite everything, and Ares loved him doubly in return. 

Apparently noticing the loss of Ares' body against his own, Dionysus frowned and grumbled as he woke from his slumber. "Ares? Sweetness, what are you doing? Come back to bed."

"I want to, dearest. Believe me, I do... but the humans have declared war in my name."

The explanation took a moment to settle into Dionysus' wine-fogged mind, or maybe it was the denial that kept the realisation from him for so long. Either way, he only stared at Ares for a long moment before coming to the conclusion that his lover would be going to war. Into battle. Amongst humans who were ever developing stronger and more powerful technology. Amongst the humans who had been able to wound (and slay) their kind in the past. Humans who had the assistance of demi-gods like Hercules... who had bested Ares before.

"Come back to bed," Dionysus repeated, his tone firm to cover his worry. "They can fight their petty little wars without you."

"Dionysus... my love, you know I can't," Ares answered, his brow pinched with sympathy and platitudes. "I will try not to be away for too long. We'll fight hard and fast, so that I can come back to you."

The God of Wine sat up in his bed, his dark eyes wide with hurt and disbelief. And it broke Ares' heart. He could practically see the worried thoughts building in Dionysus' head, his grief over the loss of Ampelos adding an extra layer of disquiet to his mind. It wouldn't have mattered if Ares was fighting twelve men or twelve thousand, the fear would have been the same. 

Approaching the bed, Ares settled his weight beside Dionysus and he reached out to cradle his chin between a thumb and forefinger, "Hey, look at me. I'll be alright. This is what I do, my love. This is my specialty."

"Be careful... please, Ares. I can't lose you," Dionysus begged, and Ares knew that he would never suffer a wound as great as he was suffering now. Hearing Dionysus beg for him, seeing the fear and panic in his gaze. It was too much. He wished that there was no war, that he could simply crawl into bed with his lover and draw him safe against his chest. 

"I promise, my love. I swear it by my own blade, that I will come back to you. I will be watchful in battle and keep a clear eye for the enemy's tactics. You need not worry. I'll be careful, I promise," Ares eventually answered, leaning in to kiss him lovingly. 

"Let me help with your armour, at least."

Ares nodded and stood, offering Dionysus a hand as he made his way out of bed. Slowly, in silence, Dionysus picked up each piece of Ares' armour and placed it ceremoniously onto him, securing each buckle with meticulous care. Both of them knew that Ares could simply summon the armour onto himself, but this felt important. Symbollic. When the armour was secure and Ares' sword had been sheathed at his hip, Dionysus took something from his nightstand and linked it through a gold chain. He brought it over and carefully fastened it around Ares' neck so that the trinket rested beneath his chest plate. 

Frowning a little with curiosity, Ares hooked a finger under the chain and drew the trinket out into view. It was an intricate ornament made from the fronds of a pine cone, arranged to form the face of a serpent. It was beautiful, and powerful, and Ares felt the words he longed to say lodging in his throat. 

"I was going to surprise you with it, but I want you to take it with you into battle... like a good luck charm. Or a reminder that I'm waiting for you here," Dionysus explained, running a hand gently over Ares' cheek. "Come back to me."

Ares kissed him deeply, holding the other god close, fingers trailing into his hair. When they finally broke away, Ares pressed his forehead to Dionysus', drinking in the smell of him, the warmth of his body. Whatever happened out there, he would make sure that he came back in one piece. 

It was strange... he had never felt fear like this before. War had always been a sublime delight for him, a reviving force that allowed him to explore the limits of his own ability. But he found himself hesitating before he had even seen the battlefield. Maybe Dionysus had been right, back at the beginning when they had started to grow close - maybe Ares needed to find a new concept to become a God over. Until then, he would perform his duty and aid in the battle down on earth. But all the while, he would hold Dionysus close in his heart and would long for the day when he could return triumphant to his arms. 

"I have to go," Ares said quietly, prolonging the inevitable for just a moment longer. "I love you... wait for me."

"I love you, Ares. Now, get down there and show those damned mortals a thing or to," Dionysus smiled weakly, bluster and bravado lending his voice more strength than he truly felt. 

With a final kiss, Ares let go of his lover and descended to the earth. 

Whatever happened, he would find his way back home to Dionysus.


End file.
